Of Honey And A Stone heart
by starlightadams
Summary: Elise Berg was born and raised in Coal Valley, but she too has lived and lost, attempting to piece together her life at the loss of now, both parents- under the eye, with the full attention of Henry Gowan, Elise finds herself at a crossroads of loyalty. With her heart wishing to believe the best in him, can she manage to change the tune of a man they all deem so heartless?


The trillium wreath settled against the wooden cross. The contrast was otherworldly, white petals; _pure_ and crisp and ethereal laid upon a tempered pine enigma. A symbol of faith, and yet, a true representation of the simplicity of her mother. All she had wanted were wildflowers, the very same bunches her daughter would return home with, woven in dark tendrils on a spring afternoon. The scent of pine had always been her favorite- apart from that of labored coal and tobacco lingering on her husband each day. Far too long, far too many days passed without the patriarch of their family, but they were not the only ones living without such a piece to a familiar fold.

Nearly every family felt the loss in Coal Valley; fathers, husbands, brothers, sons- women, and children left among the rubble and settling dust. The Berg's had been no different, their grief and emptiness felt deep into the heart of marrow. Anders Berg had never intended to stay all those years ago, but such as it was, life happened. A great few decades ago, a Norwegian, fisherman's son had thought to paint the skylines of the Canadian wilderness and wound up stumbling into the quaint and homey little mining town. More importantly, the artistic young foreigner had knocked over a young woman, Nettie Caron to be precise - a feisty one with a handful of ordered books and a set of brown eyes so deep he nearly drowned.

That had been nearly 30 years ago, the first few of which were lived in relative peace and unfiltered happiness. Anders took on the role of a miner, just as Nettie's father and grandfather had done so before. As young couples do, in love and planning for their future, they tried to start a family of their own. Try as they might, with faith in the divine and love for one another- hope was lost after year _six_. Convinced it was never in gods plan for them, the couple took on a heavy sense of loss and gave up. Though, strange it is how the universe works, for nine months later, Nettie found herself giving birth to Elise. A query indeed, how life changes so quickly- brutal, painful ends met as if good deeds and piety mean nothing to the will of it all.

Eyes a shade of rich _honey_ watched the petals flow against the gentle, summer breeze. The chill offered a taste of early autumn, of a harvest soon to come but no matter the sermon of heart pouring from holy lips, she felt the pastor's words slip in one ear and venture out the other side. Elise had always tested faith, questioned the word of god and certain now that she was lost to more of the sorrow her town had been cursed by. The young woman had always found worship within the trees, or between the pages of a finely printed book, she saved her wages to order. After the tragedy that engulfed Coal Valley, Elise had lost much of herself, throwing all the energy she had into taking care of her mother. A freshly anointed nurse, she was able to work the chemist section of the general store, solving all manner of ailments before a physician was called into town. But there was little she could do to heal her mothers shattered heart intent on giving up.

She felt rigid, cold and hollow, but hardly a tear was shed in the service, the young brunette perhaps, in her own heart had come to terms with her mother's death before she was even taken from life. That the very moment her father went, his wife had been rendered a goner. The breath was ragged, shaking about in her chest as a gentle hand could be felt on the shoulder of her black, shrouded frame. _Abigail_. Wherever there was gloom, there was Abigail Stanton with a warm, resilient smile and a tin full of fresh pie. _"Thank you for coming."_ Spoke Elise. Her voice was hushed, strained from tears long spilled. _" I wouldn't miss it, your mother was a great friend."_ The older woman reminded with her own calm, her own pair of dark eyes welled with tears unshed. The other widows had offered their own condolences, stark expressions which had become far more accustomed to death then they ought to be. Though, Abigail remained, silently standing next to a young woman she had watched grow, patient in her cause to offer support. Elise was numb then, a gaze unfixed apart from the graves marked next to one another- husband and wife, **mother and father**._ "-The nerve of that man."_ It was spoken enough to draw the grieving daughter away, _honey_ sweeping upwards and into the direction of the accused as if it was meant to do so. The women, they gathered around, like a swarm of bees with one set mind. But she caught_ **his**_ eye, locked to her own with a look of sincerity, a gentle simper of solidarity that no one else would peg for anything other than arrogance.

_Elise saw it._

The swift and fleeting lowering of his hat and head, the flicker of empathy in his eyes. but just as soon as Henry Gowen came, he left, gone back to his office and keep. _"He wants us out of these homes!"_ Florence had all but growled, clutching her handbag in a feminine sort of outrage. _"What?"_ Elise felt herself whirl around, facing the gathering around her. _" I was going to tell you, I just wanted to wait until-" "I can't, not right now, I just don't want to talk."_ She knew Abigail meant well, god she knew it. But the very state she was in sent her in a quiet, suffering spiral, one that required she be as alone as she would be._ "Thank you all for coming, my mother would have been delighted."_ The young woman lied, that her mother had felt any sort of happiness since her father died in that mine.

Elise wished to sob. To release a wretched cry that was now settled like an unwelcome guest in her throat, but she slumped herself down into her father's chair which faced the untouched hearth, listening to the ticking of the carved clock. She should be head deep in mourning, but in truth, the process had been going on for too long. Every part of her own mother had dwindled; the bubble of her grin, the ever-present sense of piety in god and literature and he_r family_\- Vanished. _Is that what love did to people?_

She gazed about the home, allowing her eyes to flicker over the paintings perfectly placed on every wall- her father's work, making bright the dark wood of the cabin's structure. Everywhere she looked there were mementos of a life lived well in love; not rich, though not poor either and it made humble of their child who grew wanting for nothing. Her fathers spare set of boots still sat near the hearth, waiting to be warmed on a brisk and frigid winter morn, his plaid flannel shirt hung next to her mother's jewel blue overcoat and woolen hat. This was home, less without them but even still, her home and Elise had lost too much, though what was this home without them? Empty. A block of hollow logs pieced together and lacking the warmth of a family. Elise was not rising in fury for herself, instead, she found a great deal of ire on behalf of the widows and their surviving kin.

It was swift. Her movements, every step taken with a purpose that not even Abigail had time enough to stop the young healer as she barrelled into_ HIS _office. He was alone, at least, though her mouth would never be given any care to what company sat in Henry Gowen's office. _" Miss Berg."_ Attention was fully paid to the storm that blew through his doorway, but the richness of his voice was nearly unfazed, in fact, seemingly** pleased** to see her. Every interaction between the two parties had always been amiable- Henry going so far as to only deal with Elise, even if she had nothing to do with the general store beyond the tonics and aspirin. She seemed the only person in the town that didn't look at him as if he were Satan in the flesh, but to the defense of Elise, her parents did well not to raise someone so judgmental. Though she certainly had a bone to pick and the man was used to living on the defensive as of late. Her hand slipped up as if to silence as if to stop him standing and walking around his desk, but he did not halt his step and she did not filter her tongue.

_"You want to kick everyone out of their homes? This is absurd and **cruel**!"_ She seethed. Eyes of amber brown locking onto irises a shade of green, or was it grey? with questioning, with sadness and disappointment. The latter two struck him more than he cared to admit. Henry took a pause, a long sigh before responding. _"It isn't about what I want, **Elise**."_ No—that wasn't entirely true, now was it? It was about profit, no matter how he felt beneath all the bravado and practice of apathy_._

_"The cabins were made for the miners, the company needs to profit, and in order to do that, we need places to put new laborers...It isn't up to me."_ Another partial lie, punctuated by a few more steps towards her. He waited for her reaction, expecting a snap of her wrist- a palm over his cheek or a set of words spewed with the same sort of punch. He knew she had a sort of fire within her, he had seen it before and too as something to admire but it was not what came out of her mouth. Instead came a fatigued sigh and a shake of her head, her lashes flicked upwards, though she was shorter than him by a mere inch or two. Henry could see it then, written all over a face he found to be **exceptional** in its beauty; the weight of her grief masked by the faintest touch of rouge. It was jarring to him, to see her this way, as a Greek tragedy slipped from between pages. The melancholy didn't suit her, a face made to glitter with glee and spirit, a young woman with so much life ahead of her that he shouldn't be wasting his time thinking of. He didn't deserve a word she spoke and dammit, he knew it. The guilt wasn't something Henry Gowen was accustomed to and it made him shift the weight on his feet and clear his throat. _"I am sorry, for your loss."_ He finally said.

Elise's lips twitched with the flicker of a sorrowful smile. _" But I'm not the only one with loss, and now you wish to take it away from _widows_ and fatherless children."_ She counters. And for once in the bluest of moons, the man is silenced, though the clench of his jaw speaks for itself._ "I will give up my family's home for another family to live, Mr. Go-" "Henry."_ He intrudes, and she is caught off guard with a gentle narrowing and widening of her honeyed gaze._ " As I was saying, **Henry**. I will give up my family home for another family—I know there is a vacancy closer to work and. Well, it's—."_** lonely without them**. She wished to finish, but the words caught with a hitch and she was left to conserve her dignity. _" You're not going to fight this?"_ He was surprised, to say the very least that he was not met with the same fuming outburst as the other women._ " It would be selfish of me to keep a family home from someone else."_ she offered, as much as it would grieve her to do so; to make barren walls of memories, it may help the widows in the grand scheme of it all. _" But you should know, I will fight this for them."_ That was something Elise would make clear. Certain enough, there was no malice in her voice but her point was made, and her leave would be taken. Her tired frame slipping free from even the respectable distance between them to make for the door, pausing only to turn back._ " Have a lovely afternoon, **Henry**."_


End file.
